This Game
by Literate
Summary: This story isn’t going to have a happy ending, I think, biting my bottom lip. A happy ending is impossible. Kaoru's POV. [No pairing]


My pet name for this piece is _Happy Endings_. I got sorta fed up with all the depressing thoughts about "not everyone having happy endings" stuff. And the fact that people think that the series will end... badly. ;-; Well, 'cuz I support Hatori Bisco in making a loveable manga all the way and 'cuz I aim to make the characters happy in the end (and I only do it for OHSHC) I made this little thing.

Warning: PG. Kaoru's very confusing POV. He's too deep sometimes, I swear.

Disclaimer: I don't own OHSHC. Otherwise, I would so make a happy ending.

* * *

The world is the playing board.

Everyone is a game piece.

It seems that way, he muses. Everything seems so timed, calculated, and everything is so exact, _coincidental_. From the time when she came and the time when she left, it had always been a roller coaster, an unseen rail guiding the paths of sure chaos.

He knows this: someone is commanding this play, orchestrating this act, again and again. Everything seems so predictable after a time; you know that something might happen if there was a possibility that it might happen, and something might happen even though it might not _ever_ happen.

He learned to expect it, no matter what.

Say, the constant banana peels falling into play. In the rarest times, it appeals to everything, like their lord's foot while sliding in a perfectly straight direction, even though its victim happens to be flailing about and could not, definitely could not fall into the switch that conveniently. Then there's the time at the dance party, the final climax, the time where everything is slowed down, and the lights shined onto the two dance partners, showing a clearly awkward moment, made even worse by the request of a kiss.

Timing's to be considered: while they could predict that within the school dismissal and the opening of the Host Club customers would come in, and they couldn't know when they would creak open the door to be set in such a way to welcome their guests until they finally opened the door, as they often are surprised by the person behind the door.

He learned to predict it, and exploit it for good use.

Movement is impeccable.

Coincidences are reached.

Life is a game.

An invisible, intangible game guided by an invisible force.

He learned to read "that power."

And the only question he has is… who?

He thinks, his eyes roaming towards their lord again: the idiot was too busy whispering sweet nothings into the ear of a designation, his words timed according to the fluid motion of his fingers. He had never seen him make a mistake before, not a stutter, not a pause, not an overly dramatic sequence that wouldn't satisfy the girl's ever-fantasizing minds. But, he had seen him splutter, in front of unpredictable circumstances, namely the one girl who could always silence him, and the young fifth grader who always had a knack for blowing through his defenses.

No, he mouths silently. Tamaki is crossed off the list.

His hand moves to cup his cheek as his gaze lands on a familiar silhouette of a cake-eating senior. He had always been there, always livening up the atmosphere, always ready with a word or two, followed by his plush bunny. He watches, with a tilt of his head, as the boy (but he was his junior by two years, he shouldn't be calling him a boy) shovels the vanilla frosted cake into his mouth. Whole. But he also has uncanny resemblances towards other host club members: his wise words, soft smiles, a blithe outlook, and the blood type AB.

He shakes his head once, just once. Hani-senpai isn't it.

He feels his eyes drawn towards the towering figure near the smaller boy. Silent, quick as a shadow, always seemingly there, always knowing when, where, and why everything happens. The tallest teen with strong reflexes and possibly an innate sense of knowing exactly what with happen, even if it was out of the blue. Like when he had deflected a falling flowerpot that fell out of nowhere, or suddenly shoved a (real) spear out of the paper thin screens that everyone ignored. But, his wild tactic are overly cautious and unpredictable; he's fully prepared for it to happen.

He contemplates this for a second, then crosses his eyes. Mori-senpai acted like that.

He stays silent as a familiar scene unfolds in a small corner of the room. Overlooked, and hiding in the shadows, the calculating one is always manipulating, threatening, and thinking five steps ahead of even him. His tapping on the keyboard attests to that, and he can't help but wonder if he had most of the information already classified and categories in miscellaneous file cabinets in his home. With a knack of coming up with plans while chaos begins to unfold, he thinks that he might be the mastermind of this entire game. But he's taken off guard often, his motives betraying his actions, secret intentions hidden under elaborate words, quotes.

He closes his eyes. It can't be. Kyouya-senpai knows a lot, but not all.

And then, he finally looks over to his charge, the one who's lying on his lap, bored, blowing at his hair as it falls into his face. The first-year's obviously a candidate as well; he participates in more than enough plots to prove that he has ulterior motives masked by the seemingly erratic actions. His smiles softens; but he knows him more than he knew himself. His emotions are often out of control, and many things don't seem to happen to his plans, like something else out there was seemingly spiting him. Even if he's one-half of the mischievous twin duo, even if he's the one who planted those story-affecting banana peels where their lord could trip on it, he isn't capable of handling a world.

It's a definite no. Hikaru's too unpredictable to predict anything else.

But there's that unknown variable, the one that no one could predict, the one that no one can fully analyze and philosophize on how she affected the lives of the individual Host Club members. She's commoner, they are not; she is dull, they are not; she is genuine, and they, superficial. Her blunt words often twists the stairs of life, spinning a complicated game out of control. Even more so, they don't seem to be affecting her, not much, not little, not at all. She continues to plow onto life as if she's completely obviously to the world around her. The world that's crumbling under her feet.

Is Haruhi it? Is she the "god"?

His eyes rolls as he watches his twin mumble something incoherent, something about the girl not being there to make up a test or work. Haruhi's too concerned about her education than them.

And it's unlikely; she lives a life just like they are.

Well, he directs his eyes towards the ornate glass windows, to see something other than his mirror image.

What about him? He knows every single detail about to happen, and even creates some to suit his needs. In a nutshell, he's exactly like his twin, but even then, there remains a greater difference. Too many coincidences happen in his life: how his twin's completely identical to him, how he's mentally connected with him, how they can b synchronized to the angle of their position, how they think the same, _yet_ not the same at the same time. He's different; he's the calm, mature twin. He hardly makes mistakes, hardly put his foot in the wrong place, though he often does so very much intentionally. Right about now, everything's conducted according to _his_ plan, his wants.

But, it can't be me, he thinks, running a hand through soft brown hair. His smile widens slightly; he knows too much, predicted too much, because it's a _trait_. It isn't because he already knows everything; it's because he knows enough.

Enough to conclude: why would the "god" of this universe want to know everything?

Wouldn't the god, if this person does exists on this plane, want to exist as a normal person who affects the world?

Wouldn't the god want to be surprised at everything that happens, instead of knowing what might, and thus ruining fun?

Then, wouldn't everyone have a piece of god then? His fingers stop in mid-caress. Everyone's affecting the story, affecting everything-

No, there's one supreme being, out there, controlling everything.

And Kaoru knows her name.

-

They are the pieces.

The world is the playing board.

And an omniscient force controlling the moves.

Able to create coincidences, and destroy randomisity.

Creating everything for the sake of convenience and amusement.

For happiness and sadness.

Anything can happen, and we might not like it. Because we're just pawns on a chess board, just lives and souls to be lost and gained on a whim of another. Depressing, yet true. It just is.

Our relationships tensing, at breaking point. Only during a time like this, I can calmly rest without waiting for my brother's random emotions to play. Only a time like this where everything is standing still and nothing's changing, at least, not much.

But, if it does, it threatens to change for the worse. I know; I've gotten into a _real_ fight with his brother. I know; everything that revolves around Haruhi is going to be disastrous, and I'm sure that no one else besides me would give up the girl to another. I'm neutral territory, though for my twin, but neutral all the same.

And I know.

This story isn't going to have a happy ending, I think, biting my bottom lip. A happy ending is impossible.

And then, my eyes pierce a bored pair of amber. Bored because of the lack of designations lately (probably because I had begun to _suspect something_). The other pair shifts, only slightly at my surprised gaze.

"Baka, you're thinking too much again," he lightly taps a finger against my cheek, scolding me inaudibly. "Kaoru, what did I say about that?"

And then I smile. Because I remember.

Everything draws into an ending, if not only slightly bittersweet. Everything is resolved, in the way only Ouran stories are finished. I know, _for sure,_ that the one in charge of all this insanity could find an ending for everyone. A happy one.

"_Now_ what are you smiling about?" he asks, raising a brow at me. I laugh, but I don't say anything.

We're living in a world known as _Ouran High School Host Club_, a world in which the truth of reality is ignored, rules of society are chucked out the window, and logic, reason, and sanity are abandoned.

The "god" made it that way.

This is our fantasy world, where happy endings aren't impossible.


End file.
